How Snape and Moody Survived and What They Did after the War
by Bottled Fame
Summary: A spy and an auror are kept alive in the loopholes of canon so that they can resurface at the proper moment.
1. The Many Uses of Monkshood

**1)** **The Many Uses of Monkshood**

It was astonishing how fast time was passing by.

Snape was lying on the Shrieking Shack's floor. He could feel the cold wooden floorboards, smell the dust. But he could not move. Voldemort had gone away, so had Nagini. And Potter was now also mercifully absent. Snape was alone. He would die alone, here in the Shack. He'd wished for a different ending, but he no longer felt strong enough to protest. He had taken certain precautions, of course, yet Nagini's poison apparently was very powerful. His eyes were closed, but he thought he knew that everything around him was becoming lighter, like a cool break of dawn.

"Well, those kids took their time, didn't they?" said a gruff voice to his right.

Snape in his immobilized and yet somehow elevated state was aghast. Not in his worst nightmares had he imagined meeting Alastor Moody ever again. How did he deserve this? He was a war hero, a martyr even!

Moody's characteristic gait resounded in the floorboards. "That's some nasty bloody mess," Snape heard him say, "still, Arthur survived an attack such as this one, so why do you look that much like a goner – say something, Snape!"

Snape could think of many things to answer Moody's prompt, such as asking him how he had survived being hit at an altitude of more than 1000 feet by a killing curse, losing his wand, and dropping off his broom, all at once. Had the intelligence about Moody's death been deliberately false? And if so, which side had put it in circulation? Where did Moody's loyalties really lie? But Snape's lips would not even twitch.

He felt Moody draw nearer, and then his hand on his chest. Suddenly, the other man was very close to his face and made a sniffing sound. "Very clever," Moody said, and Snape felt the auror's warm breath on his cheek, "it's the Draught of Living Death."

 _Moody lives_ , Snape thought sluggishly; _and so do I._ Snape noted that Moody's presence deprived this realization of its cordial part. Not that Snape had ever been very cordial about life, but still…

"I need help with this," Moody said matter-of-factly. "Expecto Patronum!"

If Moody gave his Patronus instructions, he kept that to himself and did it in silence. Snape felt a piece of cloth being pressed on the wound in his neck. His mind drifted until he heard another person entering the Shrieking Shack.

"Weren't you supposed to stay grounded a little longer, Alastor? Who blew your cover?" The new person's voice sounded awfully familiar. It was much like Dumbledore's voice – but that couldn't be, could it?

"I myself did," grumbled Moody. "I had to keep an eye on Snape here."

"So, this is Severus Snape as a Headmaster?" asked the man with the Dumbledore-like voice. "Good gracious! He looks like something the cat dragged in."

"Snape's a dunderhead when he's on his own. Are you finished with staring at him, Aberforth? Did you bring what I asked for?"

 _Aberforth?_ , shrieked Snape's mind, _Aberforth the innkeeper?_

Aberforth huffed. "Do you think I'm a pharmacist? And there's a battle going on at Hogwarts, in case you haven't noticed. It may be difficult to supply what you requested."

"But this here looks like he's going to die on us! We can't have that. Not until after debriefing, anyway."

"Slughorn said he's going to handle it."

"You told somebody else?" Moody shouted, "Are you mad? What if he's a bloody impostor?"

"Come on, Alastor - "

A loud crack stopped the argument. "Professor Slughorn is sent Winky to fetch potions", a highpitched voice slurred. "He is sent Winky to fetch potions from Hookey's place."

Apparently, Slughorn had sent an houseelf to that one corner in the dungeons where they kept Hookey the Elf's statue. Snape had always, albeit reluctantly, obeyed the odd custom of placing Grand Wiggenweld Potion and blood staunching tinctures there. To him, it was just some kind of superstitious first-aid-kit for potion masters – but in that castle, one could never know for sure. Never had Snape imagined that one day it would indeed pay off. Wiggenweld Potion would erase the effect of the Draught of Living Death quickly, which was what Moody wanted. And it would heal his neck wounds.

"Quick now," Moody urged, "let's take him to the Hog's Head."

"Winky is saves coward Headmaster's life," slurred the high-pitched voice. An elf's hand grabbed Snape's left wrist, and he was hurled away in a booming twist.


	2. The Fairytale of Sleep

**2)** **The Fairytale of Sleep**

They had treated the neck wounds successfully. Snape would not lose any more blood. Yet, he frankly was stressed out by what could happen next.

"Wiggenweld Potion?" asked Moody sceptically, "there is this fairytale about that prince, who revived a princess by smearing that potion on his lips before kissing her, right?"

"Yes."

"But, the kissing is not necessary for the potion to work, right?"

"You can be an exceptionally stupid man, Alastor."

Unable to withdraw, Snape felt a finger touch his lips. A second later the potion reached his senses. The taste was so disgusting that he wanted to cringe. And, to his own surprise, he did.

"That stuff really _is_ effective," observed Moody.

Snape opened his eyes. He saw Aberforth, who reminded him of Albus in a very disconcerting way. And the face of Moody – that man looked even uglier without his magical eye. Snape managed to roll on his side. The movement caused him considerable vertigo. Aberforth shoved a bucket under Snape's head just before the potion master went violently sick.

"This is what the fairytale doesn't tell," said Aberforth. "Keep holding on to that bucket, Headmaster."

"I don't want to - " croaked Snape.

"Well, you don't look like you will be better anytime soon, quite on the contrary."

"I don't want to be Headmaster."

"Stop whining," grumbled Moody.

"Winky can fetch Pumpkin juice for coward Headmaster," offered the elf, and Snape was sick again upon hearing this.

"Go back to the castle, elf, and stay there," ordered Moody. "And no word to anyone about what you saw."

"No word about anything you experienced in the Shrieking Shack and in here," Aberforth specified quickly.

"Winky is takes orders only from her master," countered the elf.

"I don' get it. You are wearing clothes," huffed Moody, "you don't have a master. You are free to do whatever you want - unfortunately…"

"Do as these men say and get back to the kitchens and never bother me again," Snape drawled.

The elf bowed and scraped. "Winky is glad that coward Headmaster feels better."

Snape winced.

"Winky will tell no one about coward Headmaster." With a loud crack, the elf vanished while Snape still grabbed furiously for his wand.

"I am not a coward!" Snape shouted.

"Be silent, you fool," hissed Moody.

"What a petty man you are, Snape," said Aberforth. "Is an elf's parlance really of such concern to you?"

"I rather hear about how you managed to drink the Draught of Living Death, and what for," prompted Moody.

"I rather hear about how you are still alive," said Snape.

"Death Eaters first," Moody retorted with a sneer.

Snape scowled, but then lay down on his back again, exhausted. "I drank it immediately when I heard Potter and his gang approaching. I knew it would take few minutes for the Draught to kick in. There was just enough time to give the essential information. I wanted Potter and everyone else afterwards to think that I was dying so that I would have a chance to go away for good."

Moody grew angry. "That's a lie! You couldn't know that Potter was watching."

Snape uttered a short, mirthless laugh. "I spent years around that brat. I _know_ when he's near."

"But why did you carry the Draught in the first place?"

"I always carry a sample of it with me. It belongs to my escape plan in nearly all of my meetings with whomever."

"You are paranoid," stated Aberforth, "both of you are." He took a look out of a window and straightened up. "I must go back to the castle." Just as he reached the door, he turned around once more and looked at Snape. "By the way," he said, "now that I know it had been you who borrowed my bezoar just yesterday, I want it back. Put it on the table before you leave."

"You'll have to wait a while," said Snape. "I swallowed it only an hour ago."

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "Feed him," he said to Moody, and then he left.


	3. Put a Stopper in Fame

**3)** **Put a Stopper in Fame**

Snape and Moody stared at the door, but neither one moved to follow. It became suddenly clear without saying that each had his own agenda. As a spy, Snape would wait for the battle to end and then see what his next tasks were. As an Auror, Moody was following his ministry's last orders to him.

Moody's one eye had a dangerous glint in it when he regarded Snape. "That essential information that you gave the Potter boy, what was it about?"

Snape's characteristic derogative smile appeared on his face. "I cannot know any longer. It's probably in a Pensieve by this time."

Moody stomped on the ground with wrath but had to acknowledge that indeed the information was no longer with Snape. All he could get from him now would only be just that: vague hints that would just be enough to direct him to Dumbledore's Pensieve.

Moody wandered about the room restlessly, peeked out of the windows, up the staircase and into the kitchen, and eventually he slumped into a wooden chair, where he remained, scowling.

"How _did_ you survive the fall?" Snape asked.

"That was easy," said Moody, and he held up his walking stick. "I had enough time during the fall to roll in the air and cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself using the stick. It took me some more time to reach the stock of Aconite in my leg – " he knocked his wooden leg on the floor, "and I was flying again fairly late. The landing was not very gentle. And the charm doesn't work on the eye. I had to pluck it out and throw it away. They found it, and in their reeling they never realized that I was still there, of course. Idiots." Moody gave a mean laugh.

"You carry flying ointment in your prosthetic?" Snape had lifted himself up and was half-seated now, resting on his elbows.

With a single twist, Moody took the wooden leg off his artificial kneecap. It turned out the leg was hollow. Moody held the leg up and tilted it until a vial slipped out. With a grin, he showed it to Snape. Gold was glittering in the liquid it contained. Snape arched his eyebrows.

"Yes, well, I like to dash it with a bit of Felix Felicis," said Moody. Then he reattached the leg back to his knee, stood up and stomped to the bar. He selected two shot glasses and a bottle and filled the glasses. "Seeing that we are stuck here doing nothing but wait, we could just as well have a drink."

Returning from the bar he passed one glass to Snape and raised his own for a toast. "Aconite!"

Snape sniffed at the glass. It was Blishen's Firewhisky. "Aconite!"

They drank. The firewhisky burned in Snape's irritated throat. He coughed, much to Moody's amusement. Snape gestured at the empty eye socket in the Auror's face. "Why didn't you just actio it back?"

"If I were hit on that mission, I was advised to stay grounded. I was to let that eye go, lest its magic would blow my cover."

Moody and Snape emptied their glasses and then sat in silence, each of the men lost in thought. Once, Snape clicked his tongue. "The bluish wisps really were a dead giveaway of the Draught," he uttered disapprovingly under his breath. "To me, it would have been as clear as Veritaserum that not all of that could be memories. But not even Miss Granger noticed. I do hope none of the three ever attempts to be a Healer."

Moody only shook his head. He was leaning back in his chair, and for a long while nothing else happened aside Moody casting Patronusses again and again at one of the Hog's heads walls by ramming his walking stick in the floor.

"You have a lot of happy thoughts, Moody?" Snape asked eventually.

"I think of all those Death Eaters that I have arrested," Moody said, and then he cast a particularly bright patronus, "or of those that I am going to arrest, maybe." He stared at Snape.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Your patronus fits the location, anyway", he drawled. Then he squinted as a beam of morning sunlight hit his face.

Half an hour later Aberforth returned. His cheeks were glowing and his eyes were twinkling. "It appears that Potter has defeated the Dark Lord", he announced.

Moody shot up from his chair and in the blink of an eye was leaning over Snape, who was still a bit slow. "Well, let us see - " he said in a most threatening way, with his walking stick aimed at Snape's forearm.

But he was interrupted by a lynx patronus that gracefully entered through the pub's open door. "The ministry is reinstated," they heard Shacklebolt's voice. "Kingsley Shacklebolt has been assigned minister. The minister advises his Agent Snape and Auror Moody to acquire constitutionally guaranteed cover for the time being."

Snape was alarmed as he looked at Moody. The big Auror appeared utterly defeated. "Constitutionally guaranteed cover? What does that mean?" Snape asked.

Moody's eye followed the disappearing lynx with a dark look. "Azkaban," he muttered.


	4. Problems of the Magical Mind

**4)** **Problems of the Magical Mind**

It really was astonishing how fast time was passing by. After all, it had been almost twenty years since that night in the Hog's Head.

Snape sat in his office at Hogwarts, reading the Daily Prophet. "No Kissing in Azkaban - Ministry passes Dementor Act", announced a large headline. Another, much smaller one dealt with the almost decades-old and still popular rumor that the post of the potions teacher at Hogwarts could be jinxed. "School starts tomorrow – which Potioneer will go west this year?" it asked.

"I certainly won't," Snape muttered. He folded the paper as he heard knocking at the door. "Come in!"

The door opened and revealed Minerva McGonagall. They looked at each other for a long moment. Snape found she had not changed much since he had last seen her. The memory of her dueling him pained him. He rose from his seat.

"Good evening, Severus!" Minerva said politely. "We did not have an opportunity to speak, yet."

"I have to apologize," answered Snape. "I was busy."

Minerva inclined her head. "I understand." There seemed to be no attempt on her side to address all those years between their last encounter and today, which he noted with relief.

Snape had arrived in the afternoon, just in time to visit his old rooms and office and to rearrange things for the imminent start of school. There had not been much to rearrange, though. It seemed that Hogwarts had maintained his premises as though they were part of a museum. They had conserved everything there to the point that it was surreal for him to enter. It actually surprised him that there was still a door and no green barrier rope between silver posts to control a visitor crowd. He had then used his time to rush to the Room of Requirement to fetch and repair the old Foe Glass. He looked into it now, but it did not reveal anything. It was either still damaged, or there was no foe in his vicinity. Snape thought the latter highly unlikely.

"I know I should have greeted you on my arrival, Minerva," Snape said, "I did not mean to be disrespectful towards the Headmistress."

Minerva shook her head. "Oh no, Severus, I am no longer the Headmistress."

"No?" Snape was slightly puzzled.

Minerva put on a motherly smile. "Severus, is this an attempt to flatter me? Do you have any idea how old I am?"

"Dumbledore was still in office at 115 years of age," Snape replied and then almost bit his tongue when he realized it was a bad idea to start that topic.

For a moment, Minerva looked so stern that Snape had the distinct feeling he was going to be sacked before he even started a class. But then the moment passed. Regaining a more relaxed composure, Minerva said "I am going to retire today. I am here to introduce you to Hogwarts' new Headmistress." With that, she turned away from Snape to reveal a young woman standing behind her.

"Luna Lovegood," Snape said. It sounded more like a verdict than a name. "Minerva, is this some kind of bloody joke?" he then hissed almost inaudibly.

Minerva became very stern again and looked unforgiving. "Do you think I would ever joke about that post, Professor Snape?" she muttered. Then she said solemnly, "Luna Lovegood is a famous naturalist, who has been appointed Headmistress on the express wishes of both teachers' and parent's councils."

"Good evening, Professor Severus Snape," Luna said politely. She walked into his office, looked around dreamily, then just stood and looked at him. Snape found himself at a loss for words. He had never thought he would one day be looking to Minerva for help, but he did so now.

Minerva smiled. "I shall leave Hogwarts now." She looked at Luna Lovegood with affection. "There it is again, the next generation of Hogwarts teachers…" and with that, she turned away into the corridor and left them.

"Where have you been in the past nineteen years, Severus Snape?" asked Luna.

"That is none of your business," said Snape. He wanted her to leave, but there was no legitimate way for him to get rid of Headmasters or Headmistresses once they had entered his office.

"Maybe you will tell me, someday," Luna said in a very friendly way.

It was this way of Lovegood's friendliness that discomfited him just as it did when she had been a student. He had always tried to avoid and ignore her then, because of her unnerving lack of arrogance and her evenly suspended attention. Snape felt that these characteristics had an ensnaring way of decoying even the most embarrassing confessions out of any mind's hidden locker. No one could just assume such traits in such a pure manner; much less hold them up for a long time. No, it was rather in her nature to be so. She was Veritaserum in human form, and apparently she had no idea what a threat she constantly presented to the secretive mind.

"I was assigned to the Kissing Row," Snape said. He heard himself say it and resigned to acknowledge having succumbed to a terrible threat that was, at the same time, no threat. Lovegood obviously was a paradox.

Luna's non-judgmental gaze was lingering on Snape. She seemed to await further details. He decided to explain, although he asked himself why he felt that he should.

"After the Dark Lord's defeat, Moody and I were ordered to stay under cover. They sent us to work in the Azkaban section where convicts wait to receive the kiss. It was irrelevant if any of them recognized us." He gestured at the big headline of the Daily Prophet. "But with the new Act being official, the Kissing Row was obsolete. And with almost twenty years passed, the ministry decided to relieve me."

"Are you hungry, Professor Snape?" Luna suddenly asked.

"What?"

"You must be hungry, having only just arrived. Come with me," she went to the door and ushered him out of his own office and into the corridor, "to the kitchens."


	5. To Destroy a Stone

**5)** **To Destroy a Stone**

Befuddled, Snape followed Luna Lovegood to the part of the castle that was house elf domain. As silent as these creatures were on the other premises, here the air was filled with the clinking and clanging of elf household magic on a constant background of elf apparition cracks. The elves bowed respectfully to the Headmistresses, but they regarded Snape with a mixture of awe and adoration. Luna opened a small door.

Following her, Snape stepped out into a small, peaceful yard. It had a neat little flower garden in its middle. Water trickled in a fountain. High walls engulfed the yard almost completely, but there was a broad gap that allowed a view of the lake and the mountains. A bench and a table were standing at the right place to sit down and enjoy the scenery.

"You could have gone anywhere you wanted, but you decided to return to Hogwarts," Luna said. "We all thought you hated teaching. Were we wrong?"

Snape grimaced. "There are still a few years until I qualify for pension."

Luna acknowledged this with a nod, as though she was going to make a scientific note. "You said that Alastor Moody is alive, too. How is he?"

"He died again." That was the official version, anyway. Ever since Moody had allegedly drowned in the sea surrounding Azkaban three years ago, Snape was receiving anonymous birthday greetings that smelled of aconite.

An elf appeared and asked if they wanted supper. Snape realized that he indeed was hungry. Within minutes, plates, cutlery, glasses, food and drink appeared on the table.

"It is just as it has always been, isn't it?" Luna said as though she could read his thoughts. She had a bite of dandelion salad from her plate. "You will notice, however, that the students' attitude towards you will be different. They will no longer fear you, Professor Snape."

Snape's start of a derisive comment was aborted when Luna added "There will be a lot of admiration and credit. The other teachers will envy you. I mean, Harry Potter's second son will arrive tomorrow to attend his first year. His name is Albus Severus."

"Merlin," Snape breathed. A laugh built up inside him until it could not be retained any longer and escaped as a snigger. The universe was a joke.

Luna looked at Snape with even more surprise than usual. "I never heard you laugh before."

Snape pulled a hip flask from his robes. _It is what I do before I drink this_ , he thought. The flask had once belonged to Moody and was left to Snape in his will. As Moody had died twice already, Snape considered it a loan. He poured some of the flask's content into his glass. For a beverage, the liquid had a very unusual purple color.

"What is that?" Luna asked.

"They call it the Elixir of Life."

"But, that cannot be, Professor. The Elixir of Life is derived from the Philosopher's Stone," said Luna.

"Indeed, it is."

"The Philosopher's Stone was destroyed."

"Indeed, it was."

Luna looked out across the lake. "How do you destroy a stone?" She asked.

Snape said nothing for a while. He tried to focus on the serving of barbecue chicken on his plate. He was asking himself why on earth he hadjust revealed the flask's content to Lovegood.

"One could grind it to sand," he suggested eventually.

Luna nodded. "Then you would no longer have a stone, but you would still have sand. Sand could get blown away or…" her voice trailed off. She stared at him.

Snape held Luna's gaze. "Yes?" he asked slowly.

"Potion Masters are men of many vials; small vials for all kinds of things; things like sand," Luna said.

Snape said nothing.

Luna appeared bemused. "If this means what I think it means, then it contradicts the general opinion about you, Professor Snape."

"And what would that be?"

"People think that you are a fatally driven man uninterested in tribute or riches or old age."

Snape felt rage and disappointment build up as he listened to her words. "I am interested in all these things! I wanted to live! I wanted a life in peace after all that happened! I wanted an Order of Merlin! I deserved one. But, no one! No one ever gave one to me."

Snape checked himself at last. He took a deep breath. Suddenly, he felt oddly relieved. It was the same sense of relief that he had felt after giving his memories to Potter. That had felt like a heavy weight being lifted off him, and he knew he should know what kind of thing that weight had been, what it had contained, but he didn't. Of course, this here was different. He had not extracted memories to be viewed and stored in a Pensieve. He knew exactly that he had just given away the fate of The Stone and some of his true feelings.

Luna Lovegood looked at him calmly. "Thank you for sharing," she said politely.

"Sharing of what?"

"Information."

Luna Lovegood indeed was Veritaserum incarnate.

"You are welcome, Headmistress."

Luna smiled quietly. "Your life is free now, you know, Professor. You have means to be become rich and old in times of peace. Voldemort is vanquished."

"Is he ever really?" Snape asked.

After the meal, Snape retired to his rooms where he soon fell into light sleep. Still, he didn't sense anything when a Thestral pawed up a peculiar little stone in the Forbidden Forest.

At the same time, somewhere far away a disfigured wizard cried the _Accio_ spell. A magical eye landed in his hands. Incensed, he wiped off earth and fir needles. "Where the hell did they keep you?" he asked.

And only a few hours later, Harry Potter thought that his scar had not bothered him for nineteen years. Only now had he touched it absent-mindedly. Was all well?


End file.
